


The Post

by dedougal



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 21:57:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha's never been more glad to be an errand boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Post

Misha liked working with his hands. He liked using his brain as well, but when all he wanted was a break from his brain working over and over the mess his life had become… well, it had seemed like a good idea to come and take his uncle up on the standing invitation to visit. Visit was a misnomer, actually. His uncle expected him to work and Misha was glad enough of the shovelling and toting and work that required just enough of his brain to be not entirely mindless. It required enough concentration to keep his problems from swamping him, easy enough.

There were other perks, of course. Food was good. The guest room he ended up in was cool through the night and bigger than pretty much his entire ex-apartment. And the scenery wasn’t bad either. Fields, low hills and men whose muscles came from hard work and not from posing in a gym mirror.

“Take Jared his lunch, will you?” His aunt seemed to appear out of thin air.

“J-Jared?” Misha couldn’t help the stutter nor the urge to wipe suddenly sweaty palms on his worn jeans.

“Yeah – the tall one? He’s up in the top pasture working on replacing the fence.” She held out a thermos and a tin box. Misha might even be tempted to call it a lunch pail. Being back here was like stepping back twenty, thirty years. The mobile connection was damn pathetic- “It would save your uncle.”

“No problem.” Misha stopped his wool-gathering in its tracks, took the box and headed for the old rusty truck that served as farm transportation. Misha could no longer tell if the orange was rust or dirt.

The trip in the heat of the day seemed to take forever. The farm was a substantial one – only way to make money these days – and one neatly tended field gave way to another over and over again. The slight breeze dropped and Misha wound the window down all the way, trying to ignore the jolting his bones were receiving from the dated suspension and the rough track. 

 

There were days when Misha had to believe in a higher deity. Today of all days was one of them. Jared – oh thank god/gods/goddess – was stripped to the waist, tanned and sweat-slick, as he raised the mallet to pound the post he was working on into the ground. His shirt lay abandoned on the ground, his jeans hung low on his hips as he rose up and slammed the mallet down with another powerful blow. His muscles coiled, tightened, loosened and Misha lost himself in their patterns.

“Hey! That lunch?” Jared was looking at him now, easy grin in place. Misha had to drag – the hardship – his eyes up Jared’s naked, glowing chest to reach his eyes. The grin turned crooked, a little wicked, and a dimple popped in Jared’s cheek.

Misha wasn’t sure how he’d managed to regain enough control over his limbs to cross the distance between them. But when he stood open-mouthed and aware that there was no one around, no one for miles, to see the way he wanted to fall to his knees and worship the cut of his hips, the bulge that was pressing against the fly of Jared’s jeans.

Guiltily Misha brought his eyes up to Jared’s face again. “The heat. Too much for my city constitution. Obviously. This is your lunch.”

Jared lounged back against the post he’d just driven into the hard earth, looking relaxed and completely composed. He folded his arms across his chest. There was the full gun show, totally for Misha and no one else. And Misha stopped trying to pretend he was doing anything other than watching avidly. He was a fan of Jared’s arms. His tan. The naughty smile.

“I normally don’t forget my lunch, you know. I like my food. I’m a growing boy.” Jared’s voice was rougher, the educated sheen clouding over with the dirt. He had an accent, longer vowels, slurred consonants. The sounds wrapped around Misha like a blanket. He felt muffled, the sound of his heart beat loud in his ears and everything else dropping away. “I thought you might bring it.”

Misha dropped the box, dropped the thermos. Then he pulled his own shirt off and dropped it to the ground as well. “Hot.”

Jared grinned, lazy and slow, eyes darkening as he looked Misha up and down. “Not bad for a townie.” The words, the regard, gave Misha enough impetus to slide forward, closing the gap. He still couldn’t quite bring himself to touch. Jared made up for the hesitation, spinning them and pinning Misha against the fence post. The rough wood bit into his naked back but the warmth and feel of Jared’s naked chest against his own more than made up for it. Jared held him there, one big hand rough against the skin at Misha’s waist. The other came to cup his jaw, tilting his head back. Misha wanted to move, grab back at Jared, pull him close. On the other hand, watching was good, feeling was good.

“Stop thinking,” Jared laughed.

“Come here and make me.” The words were out before Misha could stop them and then Jared seemed to take the suggestion in the spirit it was offered. His mouth was just the right amount of hard as he demanded entrance, lips parted. Misha couldn’t help responding, arcing up against Jared, wanting to feel him surrounding him, covering him, overwhelming him. His dick responded at the thought, a heavy weight in his jeans. A roll of his hips, desperate for contact, confirmed that Jared was feeling the same way. 

Misha moaned when the kiss was broken, a whimpering sound that echoed the bird flying high overhead. Jared thumbed at his lips, pulling Misha’s bottom lip down. It shouldn’t have sent a punch of lust through his gut. But nothing here was anything other than unreal and fantastical and Jared soft, “Fuck” and the way he was fumbling at Misha’s pants made Misha never want the moment to end.

Jared tumbled to his knees, hands pressing Misha back against the post again, keeping his hips still as Jared’s mouth enveloped him, swallowing and sucking and his tongue… Misha revelled in the sensation, the warmth, the clever, all-too-knowledgeable way Jared was opening his throat and the way this hadn’t happened to him for way too long. Dry spells and collapsing relationships seemed unimportant when Jared’s fingers found their way into Misha’s mouth, simultaneously stopping his litany of groans and giving him something to suck on in return. 

All too soon Jared pulled off – a filthy, wet, sucking sound – and spun Misha around, forcing him to hold onto the post, tilt his hips back to protect his cock and make him stick his ass out, ready, waiting, willing. Jared tugged his jeans down, leaving them tangled around his ankles. Misha tried not to think what a sight he made, all but naked, holding on to a fence post for dear life. The feel of Jared’s breath against his ass made the thoughts go away again, a white wash of lust smoothing over anything uncomfortable and intrusive. The press of Jared’s fingers over his pucker made him start even though he’d been expecting it.

Jared was oddly gentle as he drove first one and then a second long, hard finger into Misha. The cry of a bird high above them made him realise how very vulnerable he was, exposed and slutty. When Jared pulled away, the feeling intensified. Creeping worry made Misha want to straighten up, pull his pants up, his shirt back on and made him want to slink away, ashamed and despairing.

Moments later, Jared returned, pulling Misha up against his chest, warm and broad and strong. “Hey, hush.” Misha’s head was turned and he was kissed. There was a surprising amount of sweetness in the kiss, Jared’s tongue seeking entry instead of demanding. He held Misha close, tight against him. “We don’t have to do this. Not at all.”

“I want to.” Misha was surprised at his honesty. Sure, his dick was throbbing with the need to be touched and his body ached for the cock he could feel pressed against the small of his back. He could tell Jared wasn’t convinced by the way his hand petted Misha’s belly, holding him close. “I do.”

“I know about you, Misha Collins.” Jared’s words were hot against his ear. “And I want to know more.”

A shiver that was lust and hope and fire ran up his back. Misha nodded, turning his head blindly again. Jared caught his mouth and deepened the kissing into something filthy. He stepped back, letting Misha watch him as he picked his t-shirt up off the ground. Misha only had a moment of confusion as Jared draped it over the post before he was guided forward to rest against it once more. Jared’s hard hands stroked down his back, over his ass, to position him perfectly before he stepped away. Misha heard the sound of Jared lowering his zipper, the sound seeming to echo around the fields. Jared’s fingers returned, slick and wet, easing into him once more. This time Misha knew exactly what to expect when Jared pulled away and he canted his hips, ready.

The stretch Jared’s cock demanded was intense. So intense it drove all thoughts but the feeling of that slick, hard, demanding cock. Jared didn’t push but he didn’t stop either, rocking himself into Misha with shallow thrusts, one rolling smoothly into another. There was a moment when it all became too much, sensation overwhelming Misha until he felt like he might fly apart, become dust and air. Then his body accepted the goddamn girth as if it always had and always would. Every thrust seemed designed to hit all of Misha’s preferences. It had been a long time since he’d been fucked with such deliberately contained ferocity.

Jared’s control couldn’t last forever. He draped himself over Misha, stroking a hand over the sharp spur of his hip, his belly before finally, _finally_ , wrapping around his cock. A few strokes were all it took to have Misha spilling like a schoolboy. He couldn’t complain, not when his ass clamped down deliciously around Jared’s cock and Jared restraint left him in a howl.

They lay beside each other after, panting. Misha shifted, feeling oddly empty. “It’s like you drove that fence post into my ass,” he grumbled.

Jared laughed, low and dirty. “First off, no. Secondly, imagine the splinters….”

“You fucker.” Misha slapped half-heartedly at Jared’s shoulder, enjoying the chance to stroke down the defined muscle. “You set me up, all seduction and shirtless and banging a fence post.”

“You know you dig a hole for it first. It’s not just brute strength.” Jared rolled to lean over him, hand gentle as he cupped Misha’s cheek and kissed him with the odd, welcome sweetness. “I’m not just brute strength.”

Misha felt something he hadn’t known was choking him break. Suddenly he could breathe easier, deeper. “Yeah. I know. Lunch?”

Jared dropped a kiss to his lips once more before sitting up and grabbing his sandwich. “And dinner. Later.”

Misha could do nothing but lie on the coarse grass and nod.


End file.
